The Akashic Records are the record on the inner planes of all the "past," future and parallel lives of everyone, as well as their reasons for incarnating this time around. Find out who you really are. You are so much more than this one lifetime! We are immortal beings,coming back again and again to learn, grow, and merge once again with Creator-Source. It is when we know who we are more fully that our bodies and minds heal and our Spirits begin to SOAR!

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Monday, March 7, 2016

Civil War Surgeon

In reporting a past life memory of my own which happened a couple of years back. I am quite clear it does not prove anything to anyone but me,
especially due to the unreliability of combat records. Despite my current hesitation to talk about my own past lives, I will this time, since I suspect it will have benefit to others.

Off and on over the years I had thought about how I almost
never see anything that is “left-brained proof” of these past life readings
being real, like names and dates. I had no proof except to the people I do them
for—since they know things about themselves I do not previously know that the
past lives readings reference. So I said aloud to my guides that I was ready to see
some kind of "proof" that I was seeing real past lives. The guides had always said names and dates and the like were simply distractions from what was important. What happened to the person was what mattered--the experience--and history often writes untruths.

What comes to mind as I say that I asked for "proof" is a reminder to be careful what I wish for and how I word
it. And I already knew that! So as I write this I am laughing at myself.

A few days after I said that, I was
working with a client named Jenny. She was lying on my treatment table when she turned her face to me and out-of-the-blue said, “I know I fought in the
American Civil War and died there.” I replied that I had not been involved in
that war, meaning I had no memory of fighting in that one. I was half in trance at the time since I was doing energy medicine for Jenny, as I go into a light trance to do that work.

Just as I said those words to her,
my own open eyes were staring off into space while looking at the sage green
wall behind the treatment table. Then instantly in my mind’s eye I saw myself looking into a mirror shaving. I
was out-of-doors and the mirror was hanging from a tree. I gasped. As I looked
into the mirror I could see that I had a good-looking, well-shaped full beard
which was slightly graying. I was shaving my cheeks above the beard with a
straight razor. I had blue eyes, shoulder length loosely curling brown hair,
and a Union uniform on with suspenders dropped off my shoulders. I was not of
slight build, but muscular, strong and even a bit beefy. I knew I was not only an
officer in his mid-forties, but a surgeon as well. I was a “saw-bones” as they
called them because of the frequent amputations those unfortunate men were
called to perform out in the field without the grace of anesthesia. These men
were saving lives, but cutting on people without anesthesia is just torture to
the compassionate heart. I jumped as I gasped, looked at Jenny, and said, “I was
there! Oh my God, I was a field surgeon,” my heart sinking.

Remembering it was Jenny’s session
and not mine, I dropped it and went back to focusing on Jenny. I completed the
full session.

The next morning, still half asleep,
I tried an experiment. I sat in my chair with my green tea and asked to see
what else I needed to know about being a Civil War surgeon. The day I had seen
myself shaving turned out to be my last. That late morning, our field hospital
was overrun by the "Johnny Rebs." I was in the middle of an amputation of the
lower left leg of a fourteen-year-old soldier. I refused to leave him
half-finished, and as the tent was being breached, I held out my right hand,
between thumb and forefinger, with the scalpel in it sideways, the last three
fingers up, palm outward—to indicate to the nearest soldier to stop. The last
thing I saw was the blood-lust in his eyes as he pierced me through the lower
part of my heart with a long spear-like knife mounted on the end of his rifle.
I dropped to the ground. It took me about three minutes to die, gasping. Oddly,
I did not feel sad or angry, but relieved as I floated up and out of my body.
After I saw the end of that lifetime, I rested a minute and then opened my
eyes.

Next I sat down at my desk,
took a scrap of paper and pencil and said something to my guides like, okay, if
I was a field surgeon in the Civil War, what was my name? I heard Davis and
Evans. I wrote them both down. I was annoyed because they could not make up
their minds which one of these was my last name. But I continued in spite of my annoyance with
them. Next I asked which state I was from, they said Indiana. Right. Indiana,
sure. Why have I no interest in going to Indiana? I do not feel connected to
Indiana at all. Silence. Next I asked, Infantry or Artillery? They answered
Infantry.

Then I turned on the computer,
searched for a roster of people who served as surgeons in the Union in the
American Civil War, and found Indiana in a book from the “Harvard Library
Roster of Regimental Surgeons and Assistant Surgeons, in the Late War, with
Their Service and Last-Known Post-Office Address”. Then I looked for entries in
the infantry section. I found no one named Davis, so I kept going. When I got
to the Indiana 69th infantry section, under the “E’s” I found a man
named Evans. First name: David; middle initial S.

They were not saying Davis and
Evans. Lord in heaven, they were saying David S. Evans. Term of service was
about four years—the entire war. He was reported killed in March of 1864. I
closed my eyes, trying not to hyperventilate. This actually frightened me.

Having accepted that what I had been
doing all these years was real based upon the clients telling me how spot on I
was about things, I was still unprepared that I would be given a full name and
such detail as where he was from.

Over time, I “snapped to” about a
lot of things. That lifetime explained why I get annoyed slightly when I see
one of those goofy-looking beards so many men had during that era. Everything
shaved but the neck, chin and lower jaw, for example. Odd shaving patterns just
look stupid to me to this day. Why on earth would I care about that? I believe
this comes from the opinion of a long dead man who prided himself on having the
handsome, full, well-groomed beard of a gentleman. Those strangely shaped beards just looked
like the mark of punks to Dr. Evans.

That lifetime also explains why
every time I see someone with seriously injured arms or legs on television
shows I silently think, now, how would I do that amputation if I were there and
it were needed? I do not know where to cut the skin to do that amputation to
leave enough skin, or the locations of the blood vessels, nor where to cut the
muscles, how much to leave and how much to remove, nor do I have the tools or
knowledge to cut the bone correctly so that it does not splinter. There is so
much I do not know about amputations that I feel slightly vulnerable. But since
I will never do an amputation in this lifetime, I also have not bothered to
learn these skills nor read about them, either.
These are passing thoughts as I see films or watch television. The
prevalent part of me, Lois, knows that I do not need that skill. And I had
never said anything to anyone about this odd thought process which occasionally
flitted across my mind like a cloud passing before remembering that past life,
either. I just let it pass like many other odd thoughts.

Yes, yes, I know. That was why I was
laughing earlier: this is clearly not proof to anyone but me. And a detailed
search of the records might not agree fully with what I had seen, since records
during wartime are often seriously compromised. However, I had said to my guides
that I was ready to get some specific details like names, dates, or locations
and check them against the historical record to see proof that a past life was
real. And soon thereafter it happened – I got enough information to convince me
that it was real.

The guides do have a sense of humor.
Never let it be said they do not!What I failed to say
was that a second person should be involved in this so that someone besides me
would know—so that I would have a witness that the experience unfolded for me
as I said. But the guides gave me what I asked for. Now I have further
confirmation, for myself at least, that what I see in my readings is real. I take the risk of reporting this to others because it is interesting to me and might be to others,
plus there are important lessons here for those who are ready for them.

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Reincarnation: Past Lives and the Akashic Record

About Me

Lois J Wetzel's books are about the Akashic Records, spirituality, metaphysics, and her ongoing, extremely unusual mystical experiences, including her frequent experiences of contact from extra-dimensional beings of all kinds. Lois is a highly experienced teacher, healer, medical intuitive, shamanic practitioner, mystic, empath and intuitive counselor.
The spiritual realm is of course what Lois writes about; this is a major part of her Soul Contract in this lifetime. It also brings her great joy.
Lois still does readings from the Akashic Records for clients, intuitive counseling, and has a virtual learning center at her website: Hot Pink Lotus. There you can find free meditations, articles, and online classes. She is one of the world's experts in past life readings, and works with people all over the globe in this capacity.
Lois Wetzel's Books Include:
Akashic Records: Case Studies
EDINA: Energy Medicine from the Stars!
Sacred Journeys & Vision Quests
Reincarnation: Past Lives & the Akashic Records - 2015 Independent Author Network Award Winner